


scarlet sky

by twelfthmoonritsu



Category: Original Work
Genre: AU, Drama, F/M, Mafia AU, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Violence, bungou stray dogs au, im sorry this is so sad, its actually a school story that ended up doing well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 06:08:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17340002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelfthmoonritsu/pseuds/twelfthmoonritsu
Summary: A traumatized mafia executive must learn to love again, as he is assigned to a new partner who’s the least competent person in his eyes. Love can be complicated sometimes.





	scarlet sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NiseKei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiseKei/gifts).



    The atmosphere in a small, hidden bar was always the most magnetic to Haruka. He would find himself in a new place each night, taking sips of whiskey while listening in on the stories of a few patrons who’ve had a bit much to drink. This night was a bit different, though.

    The young man rested at the countertop, seated on a soft velvet stool as the tinkering of piano keys filled the air, weaving in and out of conversations from nearby couples and groups. He took a little sip of wine, a rather expensive Pinot Noir from 97’, as he glanced around, scouting out the facility. He wasn’t here for no reason, though. No normal human would come to the Chien Noir during any given weekday, at least not on any normal Wednesday. He, just like half of the other patrons, had an ulterior motive. The ice in the glass of whiskey that belonged to his neighbor clinked as he shifted, starling the other patron just a tick. He glanced to his left, away from the half-drunk customer as he spotted exactly who he was searching for.

    A tall woman, looking no more than 30 years old, was chatting away with one of the servers, asking about nothing truly important. Her conversation would not be heard by anyone who wasn’t intending to listen in, but the language she used was specific and clear. And, she was speaking to him.

    “Excuse me, ma’am, have you seen a white dog around here? I seem to have lost him.”

    The young woman seemed puzzled by the confusingly vague question, but she did her best to answer. One of her hands held the small velvet tray that supported two glasses of brandy from falling victim to gravity, keeping them safe in the air. The other held her chin in a stereotypical manner, her eyes closed as she pondered.

    “No, I don’t believe so. This place is secluded, though. Maybe some of the patrons may know.” She gave a customer-service smile and stepped off, going back to her job with a hurried “good luck!” thrown back at the woman.

    The young man knew she wasn’t going to be asking anyone else. She’d dropped the code, he had heard it, that was all she had to do. He spun around in the stool and looked her over in the seconds he took a gentle sip from his glass.

    The woman seemed to be slightly above average height, the 1-½ inch heels helping her gain a few more inches on anyone else in her vicinity. Midnight blue hair framed her pale face, a few strands standing out in a daring red that was not uncommon in Yokohama. The back few inches were pulled back professionally, making her seem more out of place than if it were down. A flowing red scarf covered over the collar of a suit jacket, which covered over a white dress shirt. Her jacket had dark grey pinstripes, making her seem even taller than before. All of her attire fit exactly within the aesthetic that the city provided, with half of its citizens enrolled in some kind of gang, and the other half blissfully unaware of the underground battles that happen nearly every day.

    After deeming that yes, this is the woman he is searching for, the young man finished off his wine and slid off of the stool, setting down the glass with a generous tip as he stepped forward near silently, his dress shoes tapping quietly on the wooden floor as he went up to meet the target of his interest.

    “Hello, heard you were looking for someone.” He shifted his balance onto one foot as he spoke, hands in his pockets childishly as he reluctantly looked upwards, seeing the other was just a few inches taller than he was.

    The piano music stopped for a few seconds as they stood there face to face, the atmosphere growing tense before the gentle sound of ‘Long About Midnight filled the air. The woman seemed to smile just a bit, holding out her hand in greeting to the young man.

    “It just so happens I was. My name’s Shima.” Her hand stayed suspended there for a moment before the silvery-white haired male took it, giving it a gentle shake. “Haruka. Charmed.” He tugged on her arm just a bit, leading her over to a table.

    As soon as they sat down, the atmosphere seemed to calm. Nobody around them listened in on their rather intimate discussion, subjects ranging from when they got their “job” all the way to how many scars there were on their bodies. Haruka had three visible ones, two scoring down from his left cheek down to his chin and one deeper one on the right side which did the exact same. Shima claimed she had several on her back and shoulders, though none of them were above a cat scratch. At one point, Haruka seemed to recall the source of his scars, touching them gingerly before Shima reached forwards and gave his cheek a gentle pat, as if to say that he was fine.

    The conversation continued for a bit until the night faded slowly into day, bringing the duo back to reality as the bartender claimed that their patronage was appreciated, but it was almost closing time. This quickly prompted Haruka to stand up, offering a gentle hand to his partner. Shima smiled and took it, standing daintily before pulling the grey-haired youth closer to her side as they walked out. If the barkeep bothered to look closer, a little dusting of red covered Haruka’s cheeks as they left.

 

———

 

    It had been months. To Haruka, it merely seemed like weeks. To Shima, days. Dozens of missions had been entrusted to the duo. Haruka quickly learned how little their concepts of a fair fight were similar, as Shima’s tendency to antagonize their opponents clashed with his own ideals of staying stealthy and attacking from the shadows. Of course, during every single mission, though the two of them would bicker and complain, nearly firing their rounds at each other, they seemed to get closer and closer, in more ways than one.

    They’d slowly begun to share more and more stories, their pasts being opened by glass after glass of liquor as the light from the moon became the final source that shone on both of them, stripped of their personas as the killer duo of the Port Mafia, becoming just themselves. The two ability users. The nonhuman humans. Ability users like them were prized as magicians back in the day, but now they were quite common, working for the government or random agencies. In this instance, the Port Mafia, a for hire gang of mercenaries that were better organized than the military, had taken a liking to ability users beefing up their ranks. Haruka was meant for defense, and Shima for attack. It would make sense to have a team of defense and offense, but when push came to shove, a gunfight could settle any issue easily.

    Though, during those hours, deep in the night and veiled under the secrecy of a thousand silent stars, none of that mattered. Haruka was simply himself, a broken, messy 25-year old with trust issues and hair that went gray from stress. Shima, too, was just herself, a loud 27-year old who hid her real nature under miles of sarcasm and drenched her loneliness in the cheapest whiskey she could find. The two of them should not have met, nor should they have taken a deep interest in one another and opened the doors to their hearts, allowing the other a glimpse at their darker side. But, by the power of some higher being, whether it was God or just fate, they had met. They had seeked solace in each other, and they had stopped and taken the time to truly get to know one another.

    Through this, Shima had slowly seen signs of Haruka’s past. An old broken photo frame held a black and white Polaroid, most likely taken a few years before they had even met. From what she could tell, the boy on the right was Haruka. His hair was shorter and he was smiling, but the trademark choker he kept on even to this day was visible to the camera. Next to him was someone Shima had never seen. She’d heard fleeting mentions of Haruka’s old partner, though they were never from him. She could assume this was the one. His eyes were bright, seeming downright excited to be partnered up with Haruka. He wore something similar to her own work clothing, a simple black and white suit buttoned as if he were attending a fancy dinner or going on a date. His wild hair had been groomed down for that one picture, making him seem more put together than she would have expected. Yet, she did not know his name.

    Haruka refused to tell her. The one time she caught a true glimpse at the image was when her partner had gone off to shower, and she found it by rummaging through his drawer. It was too well hidden for her tastes. Yet, when she casually asked if he had any previous partners, he veered the subject away from that and into the collection of records she’d brought to his penthouse suite.

    That was not in her mind now. As they held each other close, swaying gently under the light from their open window, her only thought was the vulnerable executive who’s waist she held close like she might lose him if she let go. Haruka had returned the gesture, closing his eyes to press his head into Shima’s chest as Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata filtered itself into the millimeters between them, the record player turned down to a gentle murmur as to not disturb their downstairs neighbors or pull any attention from someone wandering the streets late at night. The only thing on Shima’s mind was Haruka, right then in that instant. They both had a few glasses to drink, fading into their truly weak personalities as Haruka slid a record from its case mindlessly and dropped the needle between the grooves of the vinyl, beginning the sonata about a third of the way through.

    As they continued their silent dance, there were more words spoken by the trusting gestures both of them emitted than either had said the entire night. Haruka leaned in closer to Shima’s chest as the song began to slow, reaching the melody once again. He let out a long breath, his golden eyes travelling up from the wood paneled floor to meet Shima’s own deep mauve eyes. For a second they stayed there, stretching out the time as if to capture the moment, enjoying the other’s company for as long as possible. Tomorrow may come when the sun rises, but tonight they could stay together and never leave. The moments could last forever, but as Haruka reached up and closed his eyes, planting a soft kiss against Shima’s lips, time seemed to resume. There was no lust in the gesture, just pure love and affection. As Shima relaxed against Haruka, she moved her hands up rather slowly, supporting his cheeks with her own strength as if the smaller may just collapse at any moment. To Shima, he was delicate and soft. He needed care, like a dejected puppy one might find on the street. And she was just the one to give him the care he needed.

    The moment faded gently into the background, Haruka pulling back as he slowly opened his eyes to take in Shima again. Everything about her seemed just right in those few seconds. The way she always let down her hair when they were together, a sign that being with him wasn’t work, and nobody forced her to pay any attention to him. Even during these deep nights, after hours and hours of conversation, her hair wasn’t tangled and messy from their sudden leaps to dance or hold each other close, it curled just at the tips to touch her jaw, bringing the silver-haired youth’s attention to her slight smile. Her eyes spoke for anything she may have said, that her love was genuine and free to Haruka. He didn’t need to give her anything, or even love her back - though he did, of course.

    Before Haruka let himself indulge in the simple words that only lovers say, before his mouth slipped a fraction to let his heart speak his true intentions, he slipped away and lifted the needle off the record slowly, tapping the power button quickly to cease the quiet mechanical clunks that emanated from the wooden box that housed the gentle gears that managed to produce such lovely music. He hardly even spoke over a whisper, barely breathing out an “I’m tired” before walking off to the bedroom. He left Shima to bask in the moonlight, taken up by the moment just too far as she sighed to herself, mumbling something about how she was so close to him, how she could just almost hear him say the quiet declaration of love that she so longed to hear.

    Without wasting another second, Shima went to cleaning up, closing the record player and tucking away the vinyl so it wouldn’t be ruined by the dust that accumulated in their apartment every day. The windows shut smoothly, the crisp night air cut off to make the room suddenly feel stale and silent, like a crime scene after a mission. As to not be caught by the ghosts of the night, of the remaining wine and open piano, Shima walked off to the bedroom as well, not speaking a single word as she closed the door behind her and shut the duo off from the world.

 

———

 

    The atmosphere was tense. As it was in every mission. Every time they were out like this, it was as if they had been cornered for the final time, as if they were so close to giving up. And, every time, Shima ended up doing something stupid to save them. It always was like this.

    Haruka could recall going on dozens of missions exactly like this one. He’d gotten into a gunfight because Shima asked him something stupid. They’d been cornered, and his reckless partner had stood up and engaged her ability, tossing back anything that dared to come close to her. Bullets were reflected with ease, and insults hurled were returned to their owners ten times worse. Every time, Haruka would get up afterwards and see that all the opponents were stunned before making the instant choice to gun them down, showing no mercy. As was the Port Mafia way.

    Yet, he still reprimanded Shima for being reckless. She still shrugged it off and continued to jump into the face of danger, buying them precious seconds by getting so close to every single threat posed to the two of them. He’d always be left in the dust, brooding on how if she continued like that, it would be just like him - yes, just like him… He always thought first of comparisons rather than each individual person as their own person. It was the curse that trauma gave him.

    Every time Shima jumped in front of a bullet, he saw it again. He saw his old partner, how they’d been cornered and beaten, but he wouldn’t give up yet. He saw the enemy pointing a gun to him, the sound of the hammer slamming down was not there. Silently, he was frozen there as his partner rushed up, making the decision to sacrifice himself for Haruka. Haruka, the one who was so devastated and ruined by even the thought that his life was now worth something. Who stayed up late smoking an entire pack of cigarettes until his lungs ached but he _needed_ the ache. This one human being, who’s life seemed over, was just given the weight of another soul. As his partner fell, red stained his hands. Haruka had killed him. That was a farce, a lie that he’d concocted so someone was to blame. It wasn’t the enemies who’d shot. It wasn’t the boss for making them go on a suicide mission. It was his fault.

    It was Haruka who was to blame.

    Every time Shima jumped in front of a bullet, his anxiety spiked. The more she did this, the worse it would be. She’d become desensitized to the feeling of fear, of that split second where she may get hit. It terrified Haruka to even consider. She would be next.

    The weight of one soul was already on him. If Shima died, he wouldn’t be able to handle it at all. He would be worse than he was now. Far, far worse.

    Yet, each time she jumped in front of the gun for him, every time the bullets were reflected and his life was saved for another time, he could not bring himself to move. He was not brave enough to protect her at all. He was just as cowardly as he was back then.

    Maybe that was the thought that terrified him the most.

 

 

———

 

    Gradually, slowly, they got close. Shima learned of the true story behind Haruka’s three scars, how he got them when he was young, far too young to be harmed like that. Haruka learned of the baffling story of how Shima came to the Port Mafia, how she joined just for fun. How she had nothing better to do, so she might as well have joined some nefarious organization like the Port Mafia, like every other young adult did in Yokohama.

    Slowly they listened to every record that Shima owned, and she learned of Haruka’s taste in music, how he preferred Classical pieces over American Rock when he was sober, but Jazz was his preference when he was even a little bit drunk. Haruka learned how terrible of a dancer Shima was, but he didn't quite care about it. He’d dance along when they were alone, even if it meant his feet may get stepped on and he’d regret having sore legs the next day. Those were problems for the future Haruka.

    Now, in the latest moments of the day, as the sun kissed the horizon and swirled colors to produce a beautiful violet and coral sunset, painting the sky in colors of love, Haruka could only think of Shima. Of how she was out right now, sent alone on a mission, most likely risking her life for an organization she didn’t even truly feel bonded to. He sunk down onto the railing of the balcony, his grey hair blown gently by a passing breeze. He shivered as the air raced past his legs, stopping right where his shorts began. It poked at him next through the thin sleeping shirt he’d pulled on, warning of a cold night to come. He’d stay outside until Shima was home, anyway.

    Though the back of his mind told him to pick up a glass of wine or a cigarette, he pushed away the thought. Through his time with Shima, his outlook had shifted ever so slightly. If he continued down the path of a fun life, not a long one, he would die far too early. He’d leave, sure, but he would be leaving _her._ The thought was too much to bear.

    So, he stayed out on the balcony, breathing in the dusk air that mindlessly wandered by his window, a few gusts pushing around papers inside the apartment that made a faint flutter, as if birds were roosting on the piano. He spent a few more moments there before sitting up slowly, disturbing the leaves near him as the breeze was redirected towards them, giving them the chance to fall down the carved stone of the apartment building, going on to produce new life, saplings that may grow in the years to come.

    Haruka stepped inside the living room and sat down at the piano bench, opening up the shiny black piano with a near silent movement. His hands moved on their own as he slowly tapped a few notes, beginning the melody of Clair de Lune from memory. He needed no sheet music. Shima loved to listen to him play this one in the dark hours of night, when everyone was asleep but the two of them were still sober enough to hold a conversation.

    His hands traveled up the keys, daintily playing the high chords as they crossed over one another. A chaotically beautiful dance ensued, the right hand fighting for the melody as the left hand continued to dominate the volume, travelling far down to play the lowest E flat anyone could consider to be an actual note. The piano’s tuning was flawless, adding only to the melody and accompaniment as Haruka sped up, taking his time to think about exactly what was next. The hands would go their separate ways. The right hand would manage the treble clef, its home. The left hand would travel far, farther than it had ever traveled before, to the reaches of the tones possible by this instrument.

    But not for long. Just as the two separated, they return back together, falling back into the beautiful melody that-

    The clicking of the door handle interrupted Haruka’s thoughts as Shima walked through the door, already complaining about how much that job wasn’t worth it.

    “Honestly, that Mori needs to get his act together. He can’t just accept every kind of request and throw it on me like that. Hello, Haruka.” If Haruka’s mind traveled at 10 miles an hour, Shima’s went at 100. Her sentences made no sense, and that was fine. Haruka was used to it.

    He quickly snapped shut the piano, acting as if he wasn’t just playing Shima’s favorite song just so he could think of her, _no, what could you possibly be talking about?_ He got up and dusted off, huffing as he closed the window with a sharp click.

    “I feel like you complain far too much. I would just go on the mission and deal with it, if I were you. Sometimes life isn’t fair.” He stepped over to the kitchen, pouring a quick glass of water which was downed immediately. Shima seemed to notice his sudden flippant attitude.

    “Ouch, why so upset? I just got home, after all. And I did hear you playing Clair de Lune as I walked up here.”

    “It must have been a misconception, then. Maybe it was your imagination.”

    Shima shot Haruka a quick “really?” look before continuing. “You just closed the piano. It’s still warm. I’m willing to bet you just stopped playing because you didn’t want me to know you missed me.”

    Haruka didn’t even need to look at Shima to know she was smirking right now. “Maybe you misheard. I…was playing the Hungarian Rhapsody. Not Clair de Lune.” He looked off, setting down the now empty glass as he wished there was something else he could do with his hands.

    “But don’t you need sheet music for that song? If I am correct, there are no pages over there. You are rather careful about putting away your music, after all.” Shima pointed to the grand piano, showing her teeth in a smile that could make anyone want to punch her in a second. “Not to mention, I know what the Hungarian Rhapsody sounds like. Just admit it.”

    “Admit what? That I wanted to go with you? That I missed you so badly that I just had to play your favorite song so I would think of you? That I didn’t even have a drink or a smoke yet because I knew you wouldn’t want me to?”

    ”Yes, actually. All of the above.”

    “Then too bad. No, none of those are true.” Haruka looked away, crossing his arms like a young child may do if they just got told “no.” He closed his eyes, hoping to God that Shima did not see the faint blush he had on his cheeks, warning of his true feelings.

    But, they were true. Shima knew, she just didn’t say it as she walked past Haruka, saying something about how it “must not be true, then.” He did miss her all day, and he did play her favorite song in an attempt to make himself feel less alone. He didn’t drink or smoke all day so that she may come home and be vaguely proud of him, that he controlled his destructive urges one day more. He wanted all those things. He wanted Shima to love him. He loved her.

    But, the prideful part of him wouldn’t let him say it. He refused to say “I love you,” because what if it wasn’t true? What if she wasn’t in love? He would have just ruined a perfectly good partnership. Shima would request a new partner, and they wouldn’t see each other again.

    So, he just kept quiet as he fixed up some of the loose papers and books laying around before stretching out on the couch, taking a novel from his shelf that he’d most definitely read before, but it would be enough to distract him. He wouldn’t let himself release that pride and embrace the fear of rejection. Because he had so much to lose.

 

———

 

    It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Haruka was supposed to keep watch over Shima, and they were supposed to end this mission smoothly. That is not what ended up happening.

    Caught between a wall of bricks and a wall of bullets, Haruka wondered if this might be his last mission. If he might end up getting hit with a stray shot and leave behind the world that cursed him even in death. Though, deep in his mind, there was the thought that Shima would not let that happen. She would stop it somehow, using her ability in the milliseconds that it took for a bullet to pierce his skin and take his life, just so he could live another day.

    That nagging sensation, the thought that ate at him, was right.

    As the bullets stopped for just a second, casings clicking on the ground as the enemies caught their breath and reloaded, the duo revealed themselves and fired back to their opponents. A single shot was all it took to take down a few of them, but the return of fire was unexpected.

    Shima quickly engaged her ability, a blue light surrounding her for a split second before the bullets in front of her halted and shook in the air, returning to their source. One got past, though, and headed right for Haruka.

    Everything happened so quickly.

    Shima threw back the projectiles. Shima became a projectile herself. Haruka expected to feel the sting of metal piercing his flesh. Blood sprayed on the floor.

    Even the opponents were stunned as Shima fell to the ground, her gun dropping off to the side as her breaths became shallow. Her already dark jacket began to get soaked in crimson, a few drops on the ground by her.

    In the seconds that the bullets stopped, Haruka felt a thousand emotions at once. Rage. Sadness. Anger. Fear. Betrayal. He didn’t know who they were for. So, in a moment of unrestrained rage, he lifted his pistol and fired. Fired at those who dared to do this to Shima.

    He shot until the gun clicked, the magazine emptied out and useless now. It didn’t matter anyway, all their enemies were on the ground by now. Once he finally came back to the real world, no longer hearing the rushing sound of anger in his ears, he bent down by Shima’s side.

    “Shima, I-“ He barely spoke above a whisper, holding his partner close even though the threat was eliminated. “I’m so sorry…”

    Tears began to fall and mix with the blood. The sound of silence was deafening to Haruka as Shima did not respond. He could still feel her breaths under his hands, but that was it. They were shallow and weak, but they were _there._ She was alive.

    In a moment of fear and pain, Haruka clutched tightly to his partner, holding her against his chest as if she was going to be taken away. A dim blue light began to surround them.

    The sound of a voice echoed in Haruka’s ears. It was his own. _“Don’t do it! You can’t change back a human’s fate. You’ll die.”_ He didn’t listen. The dim lights of the warehouse were overpowered by his own shine, a fire-like aura surrounding them as the blood began to dissolve. It faded into the light, cleaned from the floor and Shima’s jacket like it were never there before. In the same way, Shima’s skin knit itself back together, the bullet made nonexistent.

    As Haruka continued to heal Shima, sending her back in time so that she was never injured, his breaths got staggered. His face heated up under the strain, as his body gave him the symptoms of an extreme case of influenza. He had nearly traded Shima’s life for his.

    As the light began to fade, Shima opened up her eyes slowly, seeing Haruka weakly clinging to her. All she could recall was being shot.

    “Haruka! What did you do…?” She took a second to comprehend how sick he seemed. He looked like he was just about to pass out.

    “Shima….you’re okay…?”

    “I am, I am. Come on, let’s go.” Before Shima even finished her sentence, Haruka’s grip on her faltered and he fell against her, losing any sense of consciousness he may have had.

The last thing he would remember was Shima holding him close, muttering something under her breath as she hastily pulled her phone from her pocket, nearly dropping it.

 

———

 

He’d been bedridden for weeks. Shima rarely left his side, only leaving to go on missions she’d been assigned on her own or talk to the nurses who wanted a word with her. She had been told hundreds of times that he would recover just fine, he would be back on his feet in no time.

Though, every passing day was even harder. Every day Shima went to see Haruka, to see if he was actually getting any better. His fever never went down, and he never seemed to change in his unstable control of his ability. Every once in a while, the nurses would come to change out his IV bag, only to find that either someone had already done that, or he’d set back time to where he hadn’t even received the medication he needed.

Today seemed like a normal one. As close to normal as their situation could get, anyway. Shima sat in the hospital room, her hands held tightly together, knuckles turned white from the pressure. Haruka coughed a few times, showing some signs that he was still alive, but it wasn’t even close to the recovery Shima had been promised. As she sat by his bedside, thinking feverishly about how she might be able to help, the situation seemed hopeless.

As a messenger from the Port Mafia opened the door and walked in, handing Shima a letter along with a verbal instruction that she had a new mission, Haruka did not move. He did not wake up to go with her, even though her wishes remained that he may wake and join her once again on a mission. Haruka simply laid there, shifting ever so slightly to warn those around him that he was still alive.

Shima stood up silently and took the letter, opening it easily as she began to leave the room. The messenger left with her, still rattling on about how she had to work.

Shima took one last look behind her. Haruka would recover. Something stupid like this couldn’t stop him. He was going to be ok.

As she left the room, closing the door quietly, her prayers were quietly answered. Haruka briefly moved a hand, clutching at his chest weakly. His eyes opened for a fraction of a second before he passed out once more.

    He would be okay. He would come back. He would live.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed!!! this was my school short story project, but i ended up using mine and @nisekei ‘s ocs, so i figured id post it! 
> 
> p.s. each of the “chapters” has a name! here’s the order~
> 
> 1\. someone like you  
> 2\. table for two, please  
> 3\. run home, puppy  
> 4\. the moon is in love  
> 5\. circus of idols  
> 6\. last dance


End file.
